I don't remember growing older . . .

I remember him from the Friday morning play group.

A tiny boy my mother would have called sturdy. He toddled about the musty church basement brought by his care giver and trailed by his adoring older sister Sarah, Sarah with the Sparkly Eyes as she was dubbed by my eldest- to differentiate her from all the lesser Sarah's of the preschool and primary galaxy.
Even then, his face was sprinkled with sun kisses. He laughed easily and made me smile.

A few years later I was his "morning mom" and he and my younger son, for a time, became fast friends. His silly sense of humor, flashes of brilliance and mischievousness made the mornings race past as we waited for kindergarten. The after school antics of the four kids made the arsenic hour a foreign concept.


Time passed and before and after school care was no longer a requirement, but for a time I was Tic Tac to his Beaver group. Then one day I stopped in at my favourite dry cleaners and I was personally greeted by a young man with side burns and the unmistakable sun kissed smile- my own children had matured but how was this possible?

A few chance encounters with his parents kept me aware of his, and his sister's, travels and then this weekend again I bumped into them. "Jamie is in London" they said so casually. "He decided to get his Law degree."

Well done Munchkin! I can't believe it has been that long since you ate apple wedges at my table. I am very proud of you, as your own parents must be.